


Pure Fucking Sunshine

by cyarikaa



Series: Bruce Wayne (Batman) [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Comics
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Reader Insert, Romantic Fluff, bruce wayne needs comforted, he is hurting and you are the only one who can give him happiness it seems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27694552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyarikaa/pseuds/cyarikaa
Summary: You had only everdreamedof his smile.Lord, in your dreams he would smile sobrightand sowarmand his chest would riseand then he would spit out this beautiful, heavy breathed, full, lively...Laugh.Dear god, you must have been losing your mind… maybe thiswasone of your dreams,because - right in front of your eyes, right now - yousworethat Bruce was… was…laughing.
Relationships: Batman/Reader, Batman/You, Bruce Wayne/Reader, Bruce Wayne/You
Series: Bruce Wayne (Batman) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025379
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Pure Fucking Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> _[PROMPT:](https://cyarikaprompts.tumblr.com/post/643402201294946304/%F0%9D%90%8D%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%A7-%F0%9D%90%92%F0%9D%90%9E%F0%9D%90%B1%F0%9D%90%AE%F0%9D%90%9A%F0%9D%90%A5-%F0%9D%90%80%F0%9D%90%9C%F0%9D%90%AD%F0%9D%90%AC-%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%9F-%F0%9D%90%80%F0%9D%90%9F%F0%9D%90%9F%F0%9D%90%9E%F0%9D%90%9C%F0%9D%90%AD%F0%9D%90%A2%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%A7)_ my muse tries to make yours laugh when they are sad

He’s smiling.  
_Jesus christ_ … he is fucking _smiling_.

It's not his usual smile, either.  
Not the fake, plastic smile he gives his clients and sponsors - the one that he throws around in his suit and tie when he simply just has to look polite and approachable and sociable soest how he can earn someone's quick favor and their finance. No. This smile… _gods_ this smile… it is so different. _This_ smile is bright and wide and bold, like every happy thing within him is shining outward. This smile is like pure fucking sunshine… and you had _never_ seen anything like that on Bruce Wayne.

You had only ever dreamed of his smile.  
_Lord_ , in your dreams he would smile so _bright_ and so _warm_ and his chest would rise  
and then he would spit out this beautiful, heavy breathed, full, lively...

_Laugh._   
Dear god, you must have been losing your mind… maybe this _was_ one of your dreams, because - right in front of your eyes, right now - you swore that Bruce was… was… _laughing_. ( _Mother of god, he laughs now, too?_ ) A smile and a laugh? No. _No_. This _was_ a dream. It must have been.

But it wasn’t. It was real.  
You knew it for certain when Bruce rolled over onto his side and grabbed your waist. You knew it when Bruce tugged at you, pulling you closer into his warm chest. You knew it when you could feel his chest rise and fall with each laughter filled puff of air that escaped his chest. This _was_ real… god it was _so_ real and so much better than any dream you had ever had, any vision you had ever manifested.

It was nothing like you had expected, but it was _good_.  
His smile wasn’t a thin line and his laughter wasn’t quiet and quick like you had expected - like one would typically expect of the ever-stoic Bruce Wayne. No. His smile was _wide_ \- lips curing and parting wide to reveal pearly white teeth shining through the darkness. And his laugh… dear _god_ it was so… _not_ Bruce. It was _loud_. It echoed through his quiet bedroom so shockingly suddenly. It was the kind of laugh that came from the pit of your stomach - strong and breathy, the kind that left you winded and pained afterward, but so very happy nonetheless.

It was nothing like you had expected, but it was _so_ beautiful.

_How did I do this?_ \- you wondered  
_How did I get so lucky?_

One joke. You had made one quick joke… in fact, it was hardly even a joke, if you thought about it. That ever sarcastic, cocky mouth of yours had just decided to run a bit quicker than usual - you had decided not to think before you spoke and you were just a bit too honest. That was all it was. It was nothing special. It was just… you, your thoughts, your mind running outloud, on display for Bruce to hear. It was a remark you shouldn’t have even made, one that you regretted the moment it came out of your mouth… a least, until you didn’t, until the holy sound of Bruce’s _fucking laughter_ echoed along the walls.  
_God_ , it was holy, heavenly and divine… until it was silent, until it was gone.

It was almost as though Bruce’s brain had finally caught up to his body, like he had just realized what he had done.  
His laughter was there one minute and gone the next. He was embarrassed (yet another emotion you hadn’t seen Bruce display, but it was now laid out in front of you like it had always been there, like he had always trusted you with it).

“Th-Thank you.” he muttered, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it with the way Bruce’s lips were pressed against the hair at the top of your head… but you did, and you knew what he meant by it without even needing to hear another word.

Bruce was… he was… hurt.  
No. “Hurt” wasn’t the right word. Bruce had been _broken_. His entire world had been shattered like glass and he had been left alone to pick up each and every shard and glue the pieces back together. Gotham had taken its toll on Bruce, on Batman, on his family, even on _you_ this past year, and - in ways you had never seen before - it was seemingly _noticeable_ in Bruce’s behavior now. It was like the strong, titanium walls he had built in his head to hide all his emotions and baggage behind had been forcibly knocked down and - as much as Bruce wanted to wait for solitude to let that pain leak out, to let himself feel - he just couldn’t anymore. The burden was too much to bear on his own, it was too hard to fight without those walls protecting him.

You had done what you could to help.  
Of course, you helped to polish the metaphorical armor and sharpen the swords, as you always had for Batman. But… _Batman_ wasn’t the one that needed you. _Bruce_ needed you… the man behind the mask. It wasn’t _Batman_ that needed you to cook him a good meal and be certain he _actually_ ate it. It wasn’t _Batman_ who needed to be grabbed, dragged, tugged to bed when it got just a bit _too_ late and Bruce was far too tired to stand (but too stubborn to admit otherwise). It wasn’t _Batman_ who needed you to hold him when he couldn’t sleep and whisper love-filled hymns into his ear. It wasn’t _Batman_ who needed to be told it was okay to wake in the middle of the night to weep, that he was safe to do so, that you would not be scared away, that you could and _would_ hold him through it. And it certainly wasn’t Batman who needed to laugh, to smile for the first time in… well, _gods_ , you did not even want to think about how long it had been.

_That_ was why the soft, quiet, nervous, embarrassed “Thank you” Bruce muttered into your hair at three in the morning after another long night filled with fighting and tears, anger and gentle kisses, pain and _laughter_ didn’t need an explanation or clarification… because you knew what Bruce meant by “Thank you”.

With gentle care, you placed your hands on Bruce’s face, running your thumbs over his cheeks, feeling the retaliation from the scruff that covered his jaw as you did - and when Bruce relaxed into your hands, when his eyes faded closed and his breathing softened into slumber you knew it was safe to leave a kiss on his forehead and pull him in close to your chest, to let him finally rest after another long night and whisper to him:

“No, Bruce. Thank you for letting me be here.”

**Author's Note:**

> ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* _[come find me, babes](https://cyarika-writes.carrd.co/)_ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧


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